At least that's what she told me. "I've lived here ten years and had bees all that time."
Not that I doubt her, of course.
I knew the story as soon as I opened her up. Cocoons everywhere from the moths and once the comb was out I could see the imprint of at least three different sets of combs. The all to common tale of two to three and collapse followed by swarm and repeat.
At least they now have a chance.